She shoved thoughts of the prince away before they could sink in. She had always known that Prince Mazen was a scapegoat. But that did not lessen the weight of her guilt any. She owed him for saving her life. Besides that, she had come to find his company tolerable. Enjoyable, even. And now she had betrayed him, and he would never forgive her for it.
You can still turn away from this, the Resurrectionist murmured in her mind.
Aisha clenched her fists. No, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
You cheated death; cheating a king would be easy.
“Enough,” Aisha snapped. She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until she noticed Omar and Tawil frowning at her.
“Voices again?” Tawil said with a sneer.
I would like to murder him, the ifrit murmured. That, at least, was one thing they could agree on. But Aisha pushed down the Resurrectionist’s annoyance and forced herself to nod.
She breathed in deeply as Omar walked past. Tawil followed him with a huff. The moment his elbow connected with her shoulder, Aisha reached out and gripped his arm. Heat—sudden and bright and angry—pulsed through her fingers.
Tawil pried his arm from her grip with a scowl, but she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Let me be clear,” he said. “My king may trust you, but I do not.”
Aisha watched his back until it disappeared. She heard the echo of footsteps as Omar and Tawil descended a pathway that led beneath the Sandsea. How the pathway existed beneath the sinking sand, Aisha did not know, but she was suddenly terrified to follow.
I don’t trust you either, she thought.
It did not occur to her until later that the words were not just meant for Tawil.
63
LOULIE
They traveled through the Sandsea for many days, using the compass to guide them across the arduous landscape. Because the pathways running through the sinking sand were so narrow, they opted to leave the horse behind where someone from the outpost could find it. It was already a perilous enough journey without it. And yet Loulie was glad the crossing took all her concentration, because when she wasn’t preoccupied with surviving, she lapsed into mourning for Ahmed bin Walid. By the end of every day, she was physically and emotionally drained.
And yet sleep evaded her. When she closed her eyes, she saw Ahmed.
Ahmed, dancing her around the diwan. Ahmed, eyes bright with wonder as she told him about her latest adventure. She remembered his buoyant laugh, his shining smile. And she remembered the word tattooed on his wrist: Mukhlis. Loyal. To her.
The memories carved a hole in her heart. But though she felt hollow, she knew it was nothing in comparison to Mazen’s sorrow. Try as he did to stifle his cries, she could hear him sobbing. It was only on the last night of their journey that his tears dried and his expression hardened. He was putting on armor, she realized. Steeling himself for what was to come.
That last night, they set up camp on a patch of stable land in the middle of the Sandsea. Qadir sparked a fire, took the last of their food provisions from their bag, and said, “We reach the lamp tomorrow.”
“Finally,” Loulie mumbled.
“The ifrit inside, this Rijah…” Mazen shifted. In the firelight, his golden eyes were brighter, fiercer. “What happens when we free them?”
Qadir shrugged. “I haven’t seen Rijah in hundreds of years. It is hard to say what captivity has done to their mind. But of all the ifrit, Rijah is the most likely to pursue revenge.” Silence hung in the air as Qadir roasted strips of dried meat over the fire. After a few moments, he added, “If given the choice, I think they would kill your brother over you.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” Mazen said.
Loulie groaned. “None of this is reassuring.”
Calm as she was on the outside, she was internally panicking. The present was not a problem; she could throw herself into a fight so long as she didn’t have to consider the consequences. But she could not stop worrying about the what-ifs.
What if Omar found the lamp first? What if he captured them? What if she was able to kill him? Murdering a forgotten thief to avenge her family was one thing. But murdering a prince set to take his father’s place? She would never be able to show her face in this country again.
Qadir sighed. “Don’t think too hard on it. What will be will be.”
The words sparked a memory: a calmer moment aboard a ship. Loulie smiled. “Sage advice, oh mighty jinn.”
Qadir smiled back at her.
Mazen looked bewildered. “Are you two always this calm before jumping into peril?”